


Open

by Fyre



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-18
Updated: 2012-05-18
Packaged: 2017-11-05 14:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabelle French was having a very strange day</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open

Isabelle French was having a strange day.

It started when someone dressed as a male nurse came into her room. He wasn't one of her nurses. They all worse the same stiff-edged hats, the same plain high-collared dresses as they always had. They also made sure she didn't see anyone but them. 

The only exception was the dark-haired, dark-eyed woman who looked in on her, and sometimes spoke at her. Never to her. That would suggest the conversation was between equals. Isabelle had long since given up on listening to what always felt like gloating. She would smile placidly and stare at a point behind the woman's head. If she looked insane, all the better. It meant that the woman left sooner. 

Isabelle didn't know how long she'd been there, only that it felt like forever. She tried to keep a tally of the days, but they bled together. Part of that might be down to the pills that were slipped into her food. Part of it might have been the heart-breaking monotony of it all.

And then, there he was.

The male nurse, a knight in white scrubs.

He held out his hand to her. "Come with me."

Isabelle could remember her favourite childhood story and, for a moment, felt like Wendy when Peter Pan invited her to Neverland. He could have been James Hook in disguise for all she cared. He was offering a way out, away from padded walls and barred windows. 

She scrambled upright, grasping his hand in hers. "Who are you? Why are you doing this?" she asked, confused.

"My name is Jefferson," he replied, gazing at her so intently that she almost wanted to back away. "and I need your help to do something I can't." He leaned closer, his voice soft and calm, but his grip on her hand was firm. "There's a man. His name is Mr Gold. Find him. All you have to do is tell him where you've been, and that Regina locked you up."

Belle stared at him, dazed. "Wait, what?"

It all felt too much, but he squeezed her hand like he knew she was brave enough to do it.

"It's very important," he said, looking her right in the eye. "Mr Gold's gonna protect you, but you have to tell him Regina locked you up." Isabelle stared at him, not quite understanding. Why would a stranger protect her? And why did it matter that it was Regina that locked her up? Jefferson squeezed her hand again. "He's gonna know what to do. D'you understand?"

Isabelle nodded. Being protected felt like a good plan. Anything that wasn't walls and bars and drugs and misery had to be better. "Ye-yes," she said shakily. "I have to find Mr Gold."

He smiled, drawing her out of the room. He led her up the stairs, looking around as if he expected someone to call out after them, and hurried her down the corridors. It was so light, even for early in the morning, and she squinted, taking in a new world for the first time in what felt like forever.

When he pushed open the doors and they stepped into the fresh air, Isabelle's legs trembled beneath her. Even if he was sending her off into some strange trap, she didn't care anymore. It was worth it, just to have clean, fresh morning air in her lungs. She breathed in deeply, basking in it, dizzy with the joy of it.

"I can't go with you," he said, releasing her hand to wrap a warm coat around her, "but you remember what you have to do?"

"Find Mr Gold," she said, nodding. "Tell him Regina had me locked up."

Jefferson nodded, smiling a smile that wasn't really a smile at all. There was something sad and dark and angry in his eyes. "She's messed with too many people for too long," he said. "Mr Gold can stop her coming after you again. Find him, and you'll be safe."

He took her by the shoulders and turned her to face one of the roads that led to the hospital. He was close against her back, like a shadow, and pointed over her shoulder with one hand. "That's the way to the main street," he said. "He's usually at his shop this early in the morning."

"Shop," Isabelle murmured. "got it."

Jefferson squeezed her shoulders. "Fly, little bird," he whispered, nudging her forward.

By the time she walked a dozen steps, he was gone as if he had never been there, a generous sprite who appeared from nowhere to grant her freedom, then vanish again just as quickly.

The road was rough and hard under her hospital-issued shoes, and she wrapped the coat around her. It was a chilly day, but she didn't care. It was chilly and she could feel it, properly, with the wind in her hair and the coolness on her skin. The world felt huge, vast, towering sky-high above her, and her breath grew staggered. It was all so big, too big.

The longer she was outside, the more likely it was that Regina - dark eyes, dark hair, dark smile - would come looking for her.

Isabelle's heart beat faster and she hurried in the direction of the main street, as instructed. Mr Gold. Protect her. He would protect her. The man who had freed her said so. She was free, but she could still be put back. If he would protect her, she would find him. She didn't know why he would, but anything was better than being in that room again. 

There weren't many people around.

Too early, she guessed.

She searched the storefronts, looking for anything that might let her know where this Mr Gold was. There were clock shops, hardware stores, everything but the one she was looking for. And then, there it was, right in front of her: Mr Gold's pawnshop.

The sign in the door was turned to closed, but she could see a light on. She tapped cautiously, but when no one came through, she tried the handle. Her heart thumped painfully as she door opened, and the bell jangled above her head, making her jump. She could hear a scuffling sound in the backshop, someone moving around.

Her mouth felt dry, nervous. What if he couldn't or wouldn't protect her? What if Jefferson in the hospital had been playing a cruel prank and he sent her straight back? She took a deep breath as she stepped through the doorway. She had to be brave and take the chance, or else she might as well go back to the room herself and lock the door.

There was a man there, in a suit, putting something away on a shelf. 

"E-excuse me," she said tentatively. "Are you Mr Gold?"

"Yes, I am," he said without turning, "But I'm sorry. The shop is closed." He turned to face her and froze, staring at her with wide, dark eyes.

Isabelle shifted self-consciously. She knew she probably looked a mess, her hair unbrushed, and her hospital garb not flattering at the best of times. "I was told to find you," she said, taking a step closer. "And to tell you that Regina locked me up." He was still staring, leaning on the table and a walking stick as he moved towards her. "Does that mean anything to you?" she prompted uncertainly.

He was limping across the floor, tiny steps, and she stared back at him in bewilderment when he put out a hand - it was shaking, strange - and squeezed her shoulder.

"You're real," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're alive?" It had been too long since she had talk to another person, in any normal conversation, but this wasn't normal, not by any stretch of the imagination. He was staring at her like he was seeing a ghost. Maybe that was why? Maybe he knew of her, why she was locked up. "She did this to you?"

Isabelle nodded. "I was told you would protect me?" she offered, wondering why he was looking so upset. After all, it was asking a lot of someone she didn't know.

"Yes," he whispered, and suddenly, he was hugging her, like she was the most precious thing in the world to him. "Yes, I'll protect you."

Isabelle pushed him back as gently as she could. It wouldn't be right to upset him, and make him not want to protect her. "I'm sorry," she said carefully, looking up at him, trying to tell him as kindly as possible that hugs weren't allowed between strangers, "But do I know you?"

He shook his head and looked like his heart had been broken, right then and there, and she wondered at a man who could care so much for someone who he didn't know. "No," he said, his voice breaking. "No, but you will."

She didn't have time to wonder at his words. He turned away, and drew himself up. Gathering composure. She knew that feeling well. When he turned back, his expression was calm, blank, unreadable. "I have a little chore to do, dear," he said. "If you don't mind coming with me, we can make sure you're completely safe as soon as I'm done."

She nodded, smiling nervously. "That'll be fine," she said, twisting her hands together. "What kind of chore?"

He flashed a smile that was almost convincingly real. "Just a little stroll into the woods," he said. "I have a delivery I need to make. It shouldn't take long."

Isabelle swallowed hard. Following a strange man into the woods sounded like an outing in a horror film. He was looking at her, and the expressions that had crossed his face from the moment he saw her told her all she needed to know: this man would never, ever hurt her. He would protect her, as he had said. She didn't know why, but he wanted to take care of her.

"I will go with you," she agreed. 

He turned away again, sharply, drawing a breath. "Good," he said, his voice harsh. "Very good." He seemed to be checking around the shop, then looked back at her, his half-smile back in place. "The sooner the better, dear. We best be done before people start waking up."

He closed and locked the shop, and she trailed after him as he led her out towards the forest. It was close to the town, so they were hidden by the trees within minutes. 

Even if he had planned to take her to the woods to kill her, as soon as she was walking through the trees, she wouldn't have cared. The smell of earth, leaves, dew, everything, was overwhelming after so many years of the chemical stink of the hospital. She fell behind, basking in it all, drinking in everything, and somehow, despite his cane and his limp, he was suddenly far ahead of her.

The change came as gently as a breeze.

One moment, she was following a stranger, and the next, she knew him.

"Wait," she said, stopping, her heart pounding. The way he looked at her in the shop suddenly made sense. The expression. His words. You're alive. He was acting like he was seeing a ghost, because he _was_. He knew her, and every expression on his face told her what he had been unable to admit so long ago.

"No, no, we're very close," he said, stepping over roots and branches. 

She took a deep breath. "Rumpelstiltskin, wait."

He stopped short, hesitated, and she half-walked, half-ran towards him, hardly daring to believe it. 

"I remember," she whispered as he turned to look at him. He was looking at her, with hope, fear, wonder. She couldn't help but smile. He did care, and she still did too. "I love you."

She could have closed the gap between them, but he was the one who put out his arm. She wrapped her arms around him as tightly as he was hugging her, and she almost laughed out loud in joy when he whispered, "Yes. Yes, and I love you too."

It was a very strange day, but on the whole, she decided as she drew back and looked up at him, it was a very good day too.


End file.
